the soul secured in her existence, smiles.

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and "Vanessza Bernat"
What: It starts with a dragon.
Where: Badside.
When: Misdi sundown.
Warnings: Character death... sort of.

If a woman falls to her death in Badside, when no one is around to see it, does she make a sound?

Probably, but Lucius Malfoy is not street-level when it occurs and wouldn't be able to tell you. He is in some sort of partially incorporeal state of flight, hearing more the pained screeches of the dragon bellowing across the sky in the wake of-- something. Indefinable injury that involves pieces of the beast falling in slower spirals than the rock-drop of the brunette, sword-wielding woman plummeting for the ground. Recognition is quicker, unfortunately, than the ability to act, and by the time he is disapparating completely out of the sky to short cut his own flight path, Vanessza Bernát has dashed herself upon the pavement.

He lets the dragon go. It may well die of its own injury, although dragons are made of sterner stuff than most. The street is not entirely devoid of life, although most are ducking and hiding in their own apartments, brickwalls and high windows and disrepair defining this corner of Baedal. Lucius isn't really observing his surroundings, anyway, when he lands on the street and steps out of the unfurling mass of transformative smoke that seems to meld back into his silhouette, the turn of his coat. The wand is out, silver handle gripped tighter than dueling instructors typically recommend.

Expression openly shocked as if he is not really believing what he just saw, for all the the death of some random Muggle woman would hardly have blinked on his radar some precious few years ago, he approaches, the clip of his pace even but not entirely unhurried.